


untitled

by hiuythn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lance is a bartender, M/M, absolutely no editing was done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiuythn/pseuds/hiuythn
Summary: from an ask:Heyyy, sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to put this idea out there, because I don't think there's enough of it. I really like platonic kallura — especially with a gay keith and a lesbian allura. Being badass gays, bonding over being orphans, Keith escorting Allura to bars and pretending to be her boyfriend when creeps show up. Even an exasperated Allura dealing with a pining Keith. I was hoping maybe you could write one? It's ok if you can't, I just wanted to suggest it. Have a good day!
Relationships: Allura & Keith (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 701





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i rushed as fast i could to smash sth out for this ask, i'm sorry if it felt like i was ignoring you!! i just write really slow sjdhfksjfh

Keith doesn’t see the appeal of bars and clubs himself, but Allura likes the excuse to dress up and let loose.

Why she’d want to walk around in stilettos after standing behind a pharmacy counter for eight hours a day, five days a week, is baffling to him. But he’s learned not to question her; the faster they get out there, the faster Keith can go home.

“Have you seen my eyeliner?” she asks, rifling through her makeup bag.

Keith pulls back from the mirror and hands it over. “Here. I think it’s running out.”

She takes it and sighs, giving him a disappointed look. What? If she can steal half his wardrobe, he can use her makeup now and then. Besides, his eyeliner ran out two days ago and he hasn’t had the time to buy another. His last two clients had wanted a thigh piece and a back piece respectively, and he’d spent all of Thursday and Friday inking until his fingers ached.

“Okay, up, up.” She shoos him from her vanity. “You look great; it’s my turn. Go refill Red’s water bowl or something.”

He picks up his beer and salutes her lazily. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And the mice, too!”

In the living room, the city is blanketed in a black sky. Streetlamps shine on vague shapes below; their apartment too high to see faces clearly. He finishes off his beer, wondering if he should bother drinking another. But they don’t have hard liquor at home, so he’ll need at least five more to get buzzed, which is a pain. Better not; he doesn’t want to go out on a full bladder.

Red trips around his feet as he rinses and fills her bowl, mewling plaintively when he steps over her to top up the mice’s water dispenser. He makes a face at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. I just fed you.”

She meows, high and long. He picks her up and pets her, hoping affection will be enough to distract her. She buts her head against his chin, wrinkling her nose at the scent of alcohol on his mouth. His lips quirk, endeared.

He jumps when his back pocket buzzes with a text. When the surprise disappears and he considers who’d message him at this hour, as the only people he ever talks to are Shiro and Adam, who should both be backpacking in some far-off country right now, his heart gives a traitorous lurch. There’s only one other possibility.

He pulls his phone out, wary.

> it me ya boy lance
> 
> **9:32pm** hey
> 
> i'm working tonight, you coming?
> 
> got a drink here with your name on it

“Crap,” Keith mutters.

He holds the phone carefully, afraid that a single slip of his finger will result in sending a stupid keysmash. It’s happened before. Multiple times. He remembers each embarrassing moment with unfortunate clarity. Once, he sent Lance a message that simply read _foreplay_ and followed that up with multiple texts explaining that his touch screen was overly sensitive and auto-correct-prone. Lance had replied with _LMAO bro. same tho_ but Keith still wanted to throw himself out the window.

“Allura?” Keith calls down the hall. “Lance texted.”

Her head appears in the doorway before he finishes talking. She smiles, eyes bright. “I suppose we’ll be going to Deep Water instead of Vale, then?”

Keith shifts on his feet, burying his fingers into Red’s fur. He looks down at himself, his outfit. Black jeans, black button up, sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone. The only accessories he has on are his piercings and a sleek watch Shiro gave him on his birthday. He doesn’t look bad.

It’s just—the idea of showing up and having Lance’s eyes on him has his stomach in knots. Like always.

It must show on his face because Allura clicks her tongue, catching his attention. “Honey, don’t do that. You look amazing. You could show up in sweats and he’d still be just as smitten. Tell him we’re coming.”

Keith doesn’t bother correcting her on the _smitten_ thing. She’s adamant that Keith’s feelings are reciprocated, but he and Lance had only just started warming up to each other, following their disastrous first meeting. Lance crushing on him doesn’t really make sense.

A part of him points out that it doesn’t make sense for _him_ to have a crush, either, but he brushes it off. He frowns at his phone, feeling trepidation. It’s not a question of whether he wants to see Lance, but if he’s mentally prepared enough for it.

“Text him back!” Allura yells, mind-reader that she is.

He sighs.

> it me ya boy lance
> 
> **9:36pm** yeah. see you there
> 
> _Delivered_

* * *

The line at Deep Water isn’t too bad. It’s a Saturday, but there’s no upcoming holidays or important dates, so they only have to wait a bit before the bouncer waves them in. Keith makes a beeline for the bar, needing something stronger to deal with the deafening music. Allura follows, a finger hooked in his belt loop.

Lance is busy making someone’s drink when Keith manages to wrestle free a seat for Allura. The cocktail shaker is a blur in Lance’s deceptively graceful grip. Keith eyes are drawn to him from across the bar even as Allura pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist to protect him from the motion of the crowd.

“One look and you blank out on me,” she snickers into his ear.

“Can you blame me?” he says over the music. “I think he’s got new pants. They weren’t that tight last time.”

“Or maybe he’s filled out,” she replies, hiding a smile behind her hand when he flushes.

“Just—get me a drink.”

Allura flags down the other bartender on shift and orders them shots.

They knock it back, but don’t ask for another round. They don’t need to. Within another minute, the bartender slides two glasses towards them, nodding at a man in a maroon shirt across the bar.

Allura offers the guy a smile as Keith flicks an acknowledging hand. “Generous,” she says.

“Ambitious,” Keith snorts. “Who buys for two people at once? What if we were together?”

“You’re as gay as they come, Keith. Anyone with eyes can see we’re not a thing. Now, look sharp, Lance has spotted us.”

Keith can’t help tensing up and takes a sip from his drink. Allura pats his hip.

“Boy, am I glad to see you two!” Lance chirps as his hands pour a finger of whiskey to send it down the bar. “Pretend to flirt with me so I have an excuse to ignore other people.”

 _I don’t have to pretend,_ Keith thinks morosely, as Allura says, “Pass. I’m gay.”

“Bitch, same. Besides, you’re doing it perfectly fine with Keith here.” Lance eyes the nonexistent space between their bodies, Keith’s arm around her shoulder, hers on his waist.

“He’ll get dragged off if I don’t keep a hold on him. Someone has to watch out for him.”

Keith scowls. “Who’s the one that attracts weirdos here? I practically had to peel the last one off you, remember?”

“You could’ve let me handle it,” Allura responds primly.

“Yeah, but then we’d be banned from yet another club for excessive bodily harm.”

She purses her lips, eyes glittering in amusement. Keith is so tired of her shit.

“I will never get over how lethal you guys are,” Lance grins. “How come I never see that action here? Are you guys behaving for me?”

“Deep Water’s the only place I can drag Keith to with minimal whining,” Allura explains, betraying Keith like it’s nothing. Seriously. “I wouldn’t do anything to get kicked out of the one place he likes.”

“Aw,” Lance coos. Keith shrinks down, ears red. “Keith, buddy, that’s like a standing ovation from you. Next drink is on the house, okay? I gotta take this one, be right back.”

He turns away, greeting a cluster of girls with a smooth grin. Keith bemoans their short interaction. If he could have Lance talk to him all night, he could die happy.

“You’re insufferable,” Allura tells him. “How long are you going to pine for? When will you grow a pair and ask him out?”

“When _you_ ask the cute DJ out,” he shoots back, gaze flicking to the other side of the bar. He doesn’t know the girl’s name, but she’s got her signature hair buns and fierce neon pink eyeliner on. She sticks her tongue out, jumping as the beat drops, and Keith can see the glint of her tongue piercing.

Keith side-eyes Allura, who flushes, almost unnoticeable under the strobing lights. She hides behind her glass, pouting. “Who said I wanted to? Besides, what if she’s taken? She’s probably taken; look at her. She’s so pretty. Ugh.”

He clinks his glass against her. “Felt that.”

She huffs a laugh. “We’re both hopeless. I can handle a man having temper tantrum over not getting a discount on his Viagra for being a ‘loyal customer,’ but I can’t ask a girl if she’s single. And _you—_ you can endure—no, you _like_ punching your skin with needles full of ink, you _like_ flying down the road on a death trap you call a motorcycle in nothing but leather and a helmet, but you can’t—”

“—ask out my once-rival-turned-crush,” Keith grumbles. “I know. I am _aware,_ Allura.”

The music grows louder, enough that there probably won’t be any more talking now—unless they want to shout their feelings to the world. Allura’s crush takes a swig of her beer. She yells something intelligible, hyping the crowd up, and throws back her head when they cheer for her.

Seeing this, something changes in Allura. She finishes her drink and slams it on the counter. “You know what? It can’t hurt to ask. I’ll just go up there and request a song and I’ll—casually inquire as to her availability and—and if she says no, I’ll die, but I’ll smile nicely and thank her and leave, and it won’t be so bad. Right?”

Keith stares at her. “Uh.”

She nods decisively and stands, pushing Keith into her seat. “Right. Exactly. Okay, I’m doing it. Wish me luck.”

“Good…luck?” he says, as she is swiftly swallowed up by the crowd.

The space where she was is immediately taken by a guy leaning over Keith to yell for round of shots. Keith hunches over his glass, elbows on the counter, feeling peeved.

His mood does a one-eighty when Lance plants himself in front of Keith with a knowing grin. He assures the Axe-ripe frat boy that he’ll get those shots, accepting Keith’s grateful grimace when it gets the guy to move back. Lance pours a line of shots in a span of a couple seconds and the frat boy takes off with them.

 _You good?_ Lance mouths.

Keith offers a tiny smile and is gifted with Lance’s blinding grin. He’s waved over by another patron, but Keith settles back into his seat feeling a lot better.

Across the room, Allura’s high ponytail stands out starkly in the dim lighting. It bobs and weaves through the crowd, coming to a stop by the DJ booth. Keith squints, watching as hair bun girl turns to Allura with a surprised expression. Allura presumably asks for a song request; the girl nods.

 _Come on, come on,_ Keith urges. One of them has to be successful in this, and it isn’t going to be him anytime soon.

Whatever Allura says next has the hair bun girl beaming, hands flailing a little. She pulls out her phone and pushes it onto Allura, mouth moving a mile a minute. All in all, it looks like a yes. Keith smiles, relieved.

“Finally.”

Keith looks up as a glass is placed in front of him.

“I thought they were never going to get past the ‘trading longing looks’ stage,” Lance says. “You know whenever I talk about you guys, Romelle always perks up when she hears Allura’s name?”

Keith snorts. “Doesn’t surprise me. I think everyone knew they were interested in each other but themselves.” He points at the drink. “I didn’t order this. Did someone…?”

Lance grins. “On the house, remember?”

“Right. Thanks.”

Lance shifts on his feet, gaze flashing over to Allura and the girl. He taps his fingers against the counter and seems to steel himself for something. Keith eyes him.

“Listen,” he begins. “I actually asked you here ‘cause I wanted to ask you something. Else. Wanted to ask you in addition to—to that. Um.”

Keith pauses, and he can’t help the swell of panic and hope in his chest. It’s an effort to stop it from showing on his face. Lance probably just needs a favour or something. That he had to ask in person. That he’s nervous about. The swell threatens to capsize Keith.

“Okay?” he squeaks.

Lance fidgets with a towel, wringing it between his hands. “Look, you…um. Speaking of—of trading longing looks…”

“Yes?” Keith rasps. Oh shit, he knows. This is a rejection. Lance has noticed and he’s creeped out and he’s going to ask Keith to stay away and Keith is going to sink into the floor.

“If I was to like, hypothetically, ask you on a—a date,” Lance voice cracks, “would that be, um, weird?”

“A date,” Keith parrots.

Lance flushes. “Yeah, ‘cause—I mean, I could be reading you wrong? But Romelle said I wasn’t? And I just—”

“Lance!”

Their heads whip to the side. The other bartender is pointing into the rapidly growing crowd, brows furrowed in a wordless reprimand.

“Dammit,” Lance sighs. He looks at Keith then, cheeks still rosy, and taps his knuckles on the counter. “Look, just I just really like you and—and just let me know, alright? I’ll be okay with whatever answer you give me.”

Keith nods robotically.

“Lance!”

“Duty calls.” Lance salutes him, that ever-present smile only a little unsure. “Remember to have fun, grumpypants. There’s a dancefloor out there for you, too.”

And then he’s off, towel slung over his shoulder, hands already reaching for cocktail glasses and jiggers.

Keith stares down at the condensation on the counter, the water droplets sticking to his hands, his glass. In the stool next to him, someone gets up. Someone else sits down. One of the lights behind the bar has died. Raucous laughter presses down on him on all sides.

Wait a minute, he thinks. Wait a goddamn minute.

“Lance just asked me out,” he says.

Lance asked him out. He asked him out and Keith said fucking _nothing._ His two-year crush asked him out to a club in order to _ask him out_ and he _sat_ there like a brainless mannequin and he is a _raging_ idiot—

He plants his hands on the counter, leans out of his seat and almost falling behind the bar, and yells, “Lance! Lance, it’s a yes!”

Lance whirls around, eyes wide. “It is?”

Keith just grins, feeling a flush burn across his face. Lance whoops, startling some patrons, and crosses the bar in four quick strides to plant a kiss on Keith’s cheek.

“Awesome,” Lance breathes. “I’ll text you?”

Keith nods, struck mute with happiness.

They probably would’ve stayed there for hours, just like that, if Lance wasn’t called over again by his now amused coworker. Lance shoots him another smile, and leaves him with a squeeze of his hands.

“Finally,” Allura sighs from behind him, apparently back from wooing _her_ crush.

The similarities of the situation, of her accidental echo of Lance, and the sheer joy of knowing Lance _likes him back_ —it all sends Keith into slightly hysterical laughter. Allura joins in, slinging a warm arm over his shoulder and muffling her hiccups into his hair. Lance catches his gaze, eyes bright with mirth.

Keith doesn’t like bars, but just this once, maybe he loves it.

**Author's Note:**

> hope that was ok!!
> 
> [my tumblr, come by say hi!](https://hiuythn.tumblr.com/)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/hiuythn)


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